


A journey in orbit around the sun

by ScriptaManent



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptaManent/pseuds/ScriptaManent
Summary: If Jeremy was a ray of sunshine, bright and warm, sometimes to the point of burning, the newest addition to the USC Trojans was a stormy night over an ocean, ready to take everybody down in miles. This, Jeremy had learnt very soon.It had taken a few months, though, for the first solar eruption to happen.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	A journey in orbit around the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxhat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxhat/gifts).



> Hello, Boom boom, happy birthday to the best roommate ever ❤ I hope you have a wonderful day and that you will like this short fic I wrote for you. I did my best to write them as I picture them, hopefully you'll like this version ❤  
> Also, just so you know, keeping a fic a secret for weeks and waiting until MIDNIGHT to post it is THE HARDEST THING EVER.

The Trojans’ captain jolted awake, fumbling around in the bedsheets for a moment before the gears in his brain clicked together. Around him, everything was dark. Not a ray of light filtered from under the thick curtains, which meant it was still night time, and yet, people were screaming in the common room nearby.

He muffled an exclamation of pain when the back of his hand hurt the corner of his bedside table and patted his way to his phone. Tissues, tissues, lamp switch – that would have been a good idea to use it… ah, too late, it was gone –, something falling to the floor… It took him an eternity to find his phone on the piece of furniture. He pressed the button on the side, blinded by the light for one second – and every time he kept telling himself he should switch to a black lockscreen for times like that. One look at his home screen gave him several information.

First, it was only three in the morning, which meant he should have had at least two more hours of sleep. It wasn’t like Jeremy to be grumpy, but sleep deprivation accumulated over days and days was starting to fill the metaphorical vase of his patience to the brim. He could honestly not remember the last time someone had made him angry, but he was afraid he would find out too soon what it looked like.

Secondly, he was a heavy sleeper, because the five texts and seventeen calls Laila had sent him over the past ten minutes hadn’t been enough to wake him up, which only meant the noise that had pulled him out of his dream had been something either very loud or very alarming.

Finally, Jean was going mental.

Jeremy jumped to his feet, throwing the blanket away and nearly tripping over it as he rushed to the door. He followed the shouts to their source, bumping into every table, forgotten shoe and bag in the corridor.

“Damn it, they can’t even keep the place tidy,” he grumbled. Jeremy stopped one second to fix his mood before he stepped into the lounge. “What’s going on in here?”

Everybody turned simultaneously when the captain’s voice resonated onto the walls. Disheveled, drool drying on his chin, the Trojan’s captain didn’t look like much when straight out of bed, and yet his aura filled the room like the sun after a storm. A light blush bloomed under his tan skin when he grew aware of his own looks, but he kept his head high and his eyes on the troublemaker standing behind the family size sofa at the center of the room.

Tall, dark hair falling on his forehead, Jean glared at him, baring his teeth like a cornered wolf, stopping mid-move like he was going to either take a swing at someone or run away.

“Thank God, you’re awake,” Laila exclaimed, walking toward Jeremy, her eyes still anxiously going back to Jean with each step she took. “Took you some time, captain.”

“I was just trying to be _nice_!” Alvarez yelled, throwing her palms in the air in Jean’s general direction, as if it explained everything.

The former Raven gritted his teeth and straightened up, his muscles tense. He looked ready to snap but bit his tongue instead. Jeremy’s shoulders dropped at the sight and he let out a weary breath.

“Girls, just let him be. We’ve talked about this,” he said, to which Jean’s glare fell upon him. “Would you trust a dog if you’d lived among wolves for all of your life?” he continued, unimpressed by Jean’s behaviour, if only sad.

“Are you calling me a dog?!” Laila pretended to be offended, as her frowning girlfriend replied with “Don’t insult wolves, please.”

“Anyway,” Jeremy continued, louder, “let’s all go back to bed. Coach isn’t gonna go easy on us just because we didn’t sleep.”

Laila’s face turned into a pout as Alvarez dragged her out, trotting away. There were only the two men left in the room, and they stared at each other, one upset and the other sad.

Jean crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locked on his new captain, not even flicking a glance at the mass of cookies scattered on the floor. “I don’t need your pity,” he spat.

“It’s not pity,” Jeremy countered, holding his stare without flinching.

With a sigh, he bent forward and pulled a chair for himself. He dropped onto it, slouching more than sitting, and looked up at his teammate again.

Jean’s eyes followed all of his movements and his position adjusted to the captain on instinct, always facing him front.

 _Instinct of survival_ , Jeremy thought to himself.

“I know it’s going to take a while before you start believing me,” he spoke again, running his hand over his face. He pushed a strand of blond hair back and brushed the tips of his already too long undercut. An idea sprouted in his mind but he pushed it back for a later use, needing to focus on the present. “But all we want from you is trust, really. Or not even trust, we just want you to feel comfortable around us.”

Jean’s frown deepened as he took a step back, his hip banging against the back of the couch.

“You can take your time–”

“I don’t like it when people take me by surprise,” Jean cut him off, leaving Jeremy staring at him wide-eyed. Honesty suited Jean, but it was the very first time he spoke so open-heartedly in the three months he had been with the Trojans. “I didn’t see her coming, and I…” The backliner clicked his tongue, struggling with words. His jaws clenched and Jean looked away for a brief second before he caught himself and focused back on Jeremy.

The captain stood up slowly, trying to keep his moves casual and the furthest from threatening he could. He couldn’t tell how much it hurt him to see Jean flinch every time someone threw their hands up in the air, to see how he jumped when someone laughed too loud. The man had joined their ranks not so long ago but everybody could tell it was going to be a nightmare for him to fit in. The Trojans were known for their good spirit, for their humour and lively ambiance. All of these were foreign to Jean, and trust was a concept he didn’t believe in. Jean knew fear. He knew strength. He knew loyalty. Trust was to him like the Lockness monster, something people kept bringing up but which existence he could never accept.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean this up. Just go back to bed and try to get some sleep.” He faltered, sending an unsure look Jean’s way. “Kevin told me the Ravens worked on a different time schedule… Are you… Are you getting used to twenty four hour days?”

Jean shrugged but he didn’t move, watching Jeremy as he picked the cookies from the floor and brushed the crumbs away.

Jeremy had his back to him as if it were no big deal, as if he _trusted_ Jean not to hurt him when he wasn’t looking his way. The captain continued cleaning as if Jean wasn’t there, and headed back to the door. “ _Bonne nuit,_ Jean,” he said with a grin before he disappeared.

Jean took a step forward and froze. He didn’t know whether he was more shocked by the French Jeremy had used or by the fact he was now alone in a room, without anyone to follow.

* * *

Time passed and the former Raven was still untamed, devoured by nightmares and too present people around him. Standing on the far end of the court, alone, firmly holding onto his stick as if it were the only thing keeping him alive, the backliner studied the others players. His teammates.

Jeremy walked on the court as if he owned the place, his grin bright and his gaze brighter even. He walked like he was free, like nothing could ever bother him. Even during the matches, he never lost that toothy smile. Even when they lost, he simply admitted his defeat and complimented the other team on their game.

Sometimes, Jean found it infuriating. Most of the time, he was oddly fascinated. And scared. There was no way it could be this easy. He couldn’t just walk out of the Nest and find such a place to welcome him with open arms. There had to be some backslash, some knife waiting to stab him around a corner.

Sometimes, Jean dreamt he was the knife, diving handle-deep into metaphorical heart of the USC team.

He couldn’t fit in there. If Jean was good at something, it was reading people – that was a more than needed skill in the Nest. He had learnt how to dodge, but mostly he had learnt how to position his body so that the incoming blow would hit less. Not that it had been of any help against Riko.

He had seen the way Jeremy’s smile twitched whenever Jean snapped at someone. He had watched the circles get darker under the captain’s eyes, as the nights passed and Jean’s nerves got thinner.

Both were close to breaking, and a part of Jean – the rebellious part of him he had had to repress at the Nest – wanted to push Jeremy to his limit, wanted to know what it would be like for someone like him to get mad.

And yet he knew it would break Jeremy to burst out. He was the Trojans’ spirit and soul, and if he couldn’t keep his calm around Jean, then nobody could.

And if Jeremy was kicked out of the team, he wouldn’t live long enough to have time to worry about the future.

Feeling his attention on him, Jeremy turned to Jean, his smile turning into a surprised expression, his brows lifting toward the ceiling. The next second the smile was back, brighter even, blinding.

“Jean, I’ll have something to ask you after the match!” he yelled from across the court as if he had suddenly remembered something very important and exciting.

It should have scared Jean more than anything. It was a promise, it was a surprise, it was something he couldn’t control, something someone else wanted out of him. Yet, he nodded absentmindedly, quickly scanning himself for any trace of panic. Instead, all he found was nervousness, reluctance, and a tiny bit of curiosity.

As planned, Jeremy joined him in the corridor after the match, sweat beading upon his forehead and rolling down his neck. He was obviously exhausted, his muscles ached – Jean, on the other hand, thought the Trojans’ practices to be relaxing – but still Jeremy was grinning like he had just had the best time of his life. This was his resting face, it seemed, and there were times Jean wondered what Jeremy would look like if it were indeed the best moment of his life. These were the times he didn’t want to wipe the smile off his captain’s face, or so he kept telling himself.

He wasn’t jealous, he simply couldn’t understand how such a person could exist, or such a team for the difference it made.

“Ah, Jean!” Jeremy’s grin widened if it were even possible. “Can you meet me later in the lounge? I think I badly need a shower, right now,” he laughed, and some of their teammates agreed vehemently on their way by, exaggerating the disgusted expressions that twisted their faces.

Jean frowned before he replied, gauging the man before him. Was Jeremy playing with him? Being dragged here and there was nothing new to the backliner, but it didn’t make the sensation more pleasant. And yet, he found himself agreeing before he could even think about saying no.

One hour later, Jean was waiting as planned, his back to the kitchen counter of the common area, his eyes on the door in front of him. His fingers tapped nervously on the cold surface, _tap-tap-tap tap_ , a rhythm he thought he knew but couldn’t remember where he had heard.

Jean was alone in the room, again, but the realisation never ceased to surprise him. After nearly five months, his feet had stopped following the last person out, though. Now, he could bear the certainty that nobody would call him out for being on his own. Around him, the building was buzzing with life. It was noisier than the Nest, obviously, but it had stopped scaring Jean. He had grown used to hearing a laugh pop from out of nowhere instead of a scream. The change had been slow, but even he could tell the way he reasoned was shifting, one thought at a time.

The captain stepped into the common room, sunlight catching in the rebellious strands of his hair. His brown eyes were warm when he saw his teammate waiting for him.

Something glistened in his hand and Jean instinctively startled, his body digging into the counter, like a dog spotting the stick his owner usually beat him with.

Jeremy’s face fell when he saw the look on the other’s face, and he quickly left the objects on the nearest piece of furniture for Jean to see before he took a step back. Another smile replaced his usual one, small and nervous. It was the smile Jean was the only one to see – the only one to cause.

Jean flicked his captain a wary glance before he looked down at what he had left there. The first thing that caught his eyes were the metallic blade of scissors, catching the light and glowing cold. Jean’s jaws clenched at the sight but his expression turned into a confused frown when he figured out that the thing beside them was a hair trimmer.

“What’s that for?”

The way Jeremy lifted his hand to tug on his own hair had something childish that made Jean’s muscles relax all at once.

“Everything’s too long,” the captain said with a shrug and a pout. “I would have asked someone else but really I can’t trust them with my hair.” He let out a warm laugh that resonated in his ribcage. “Last time I let one of the guys cut it, they wrote something with the hair trimmer and I never managed to read it… All I know is that it made Coach’s face go redder than our helmets...”

Jean stared at him, a slight frown still engraved on his face, and Jeremy had to ask out loud, his smile crooking at the corner into a shy expression that Jean had never seen him make so far.

“Would you cut my hair for me? If you want I can repay you with a meal or something.”

The other glanced at the scissors and nodded slowly, his mind blank. He pulled a chair in front of him for Jeremy and watched as he sat down as if he had done it a thousand times before. The blade glinted in Jean’s hand, sharp and close to the other’s skin. Jeremy didn’t even flinch when the cold metal brushed his neck, he barely shivered. He could see no threat in the gesture, and for one vivid second, envy flashed before Jean’s eyes.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can always say no,” Jeremy suddenly pointed out, as if he had forgotten to say it before. He didn’t move, careful not to get his ear cut like that time Alvarez had offered to refresh his undercut and Laila had stormed into the room in the middle of the session.

Yet, Jeremy wanted to turn around. He wanted to see the look on Jean’s face, to know what crossed his mind. He didn’t know how much it meant and how weird it sounded for Jean to have a choice.

Slowly, maybe a bit shaking, Jean’s fingers ran through Jeremy’s blond hair. The familiar _snip_ of scissors blades resonated close to the captain’s ears, loud, but he controlled himself not to move away. If what Jean needed was unfathomable trust, he would have it; Jeremy would do his best to help him.

He closed his eyes and started whistling a song as strands of hair fell around him, a four notes melody that came naturally to him whenever he was relaxed. Jean froze out of the blue and Jeremy carefully turned to him, putting his hand on the back of the chair to announce his movement.

“Jean?” he called, worry in his voice.

A firm hand gripped his skull and turned him so that he faced the opposite direction again.

“Don’t move or I’ll slip,” the other grunted, an edge to his voice.

Jeremy hummed an answer and blinked in confusion at the wall as Jean switched the scissors for the hair trimmer. The engine’s buzz filled the room and the silence as the two men’s thoughts drifted further away from each others.

* * *

It was around Jean’s eighth month with the Trojans that all Hell broke loose.

“Okay, that’s it!” Jeremy snapped, and the whole room went quiet.

On the couch, Laila sniffed, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Alvarez had her arms around her girlfriend, protectively putting herself between Jean and the other girl. A few of their teammates were frozen, scattered in the room, far enough from Jean’s reach to be safe.

Everybody’s eyes were on the captain, and his on Jean Moreau. There was no longer a smile on his face for what was probably the first time ever. His expression was closed, unreadable, and even the former Raven daren’t look away.

“Jean, come with me,” he said, his voice clear and cracking like a whip.

The other took a step back, glaring. “You can’t make me,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Jeremy let out a sigh and a frown creased his usually smooth forehead. “We need to have a talk. We can’t continue like this. Come with me.”

The captain was patient as ever, and yet his words were dull. The colours in his eyes spinned like black holes and Jean wondered if the stars in them had died out with his smile.

Eventually, he followed him to another room at the opposite side of the floor.

Jean closed the door behind him, out of habit, and Jeremy frowned at that. He dropped into a chair and Jean took one second to take the place in. There was a desk by the window, where Jeremy was sitting. A bookshelf took half a wall, filled with everything but books, from sports magazines to trophies, and even one lonely sneaker. Photos were pinned to a wall, just above a single bed. The room was small and yet warm, and it was the atmosphere rather than the personal items that made Jean’s brain click and realise he was standing in Jeremy’s room.

He swallowed nervously, his hand still on the doorknob behind his back.

“I can sit on the bed if you want, but really if you want to run away, I’d just advise you to pick the door over the window,” Jeremy said. His voice sounded tired and he ran his hand over his face. His whole body was hunched, Atlas holding the world on his shoulders.

Another moment passed and eventually he lifted his gaze to meet Jean’s.

“You can open the door if it can make you feel more at ease.”

These were the words that finally pushed Jean to take a step forward. The shadow of a smile passed on the captain’s face, brief and exhausted, but Jean’s heart immediately felt lighter. He hadn’t screwed it all up yet; he hadn’t completely broken Jeremy.

The team wouldn’t trust him again, though. Not when he had clearly threatened one of them.

Laila’s face flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked, pale with terror, and the noise the kitchen knife had made when he had stabbed it into the wood table echoed in his ears.

Laila had known she had made a mistake clapping her hand on Jean’s back as soon as she had felt him stiffen under her palm.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Jean eventually said to Jeremy, lifting his chin in a challenging behaviour he couldn’t even explain why he was expressing.

In front of him, the captain frowned and made a funny face. “Excuse me, _what the fuck_?!” he started, almost startling Jean. “You make a mess in my team and you think you’re gonna leave just like that?”

He froze and flicked a surprised look at his own feet, realising he had stood up from his chair only when Jean retreated to the door. Jeremy fell back into his chair and let out another sigh that sounded almost like a growl.

“Listen, Jean, I need to figure out how to make it work, but obviously you need more time than we thought. I’m sorry we messed up.”

This time it was Jean’s turn to look confused. _He_ was the one who could have hurt Laila, and _Jeremy_ was apologizing, _in the team’s name_?!

“You can stop your show, no one's watching,” the backliner barked, on the defensive, because it was the most appropriate reaction he knew when he couldn’t read the atmosphere.

Jeremy inhaled sharply and pinched his nose before he threw his head back against the window. The glass shook slightly at the impact and Jeremy closed his eyes, his throat exposed like he wasn’t scared Jean would hurt him.

 _Because of course he wasn’t_ , Jean realised, puzzled.

The captain let it go, sending Jean another look from under his eyelashes. “Jean, I need you to tell me… For real, don’t lie… How are you? I mean, how do you feel around the Trojans?”

Jean’s shoulders dropped as he stared at Jeremy like he had just fallen from the sky. Or maybe it was Jean who had fallen into another dimension?

When he didn’t answer, Jeremy’s tired smile appeared again, tainted with resignation. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me anyway. It’s just… I’m worried. I don’t want you to hurt anyone, and I know we’re hurting you more than we should. I’m sorry, Jean.”

Another funny look from the backliner. He couldn’t understand where all of this was going. Worry was a feeling Jean thought he understood, because it was one close to fear, and fear he knew too well. Yet, what he didn’t get was why or how anyone would be worried about him. Even Kevin had left him behind with the Ravens, even if it had been for some months only – by the Ravens’ standards, nearly one year had passed.

Jeremy, he thought, was like Renee in that matter. There was something in their eyes that glimmered every time they casted their gazes on Jean. However, Jean had never been able to read it.

The captain cleared his throat and bent forward, looking up at his teammate again. “Tell me how I can help… I will tell the others to leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

Jean’s jaws clenched and he averted his gaze. “I’m trying,” he cut Jeremy off, surprising him again. “But I can’t have people near me. Too close to me.”

A question passed in Jeremy’s eyes but he closed his mouth before it slipped past his lips. He didn’t need to hear the answer, he already knew it.

“As long as you’re trying, it’ll be fine, then.”

There it was again, the sincerity in Jeremy’s smile, comforting like the first rays of sunshine in spring.

“I’ll talk to the others,” he continued. “Tell them not to touch you or not to invade your space. I thought they had understood but they just keep forgetting. I know you don’t want to hear this but that’s how they show their affection. Sometimes they just forget that not everybody has the same boundaries.” Another smile, this one a bit softer. “Really, Jean, nobody here wants to hurt you. To be perfectly honest, it’s actually quite the contrary,” Jeremy added with a short laugh, falling back against the chair that shook under the shift of his weight.

His eyes lingered on Jean’s for a second too long, catching both Jean’s gaze and his breath, and Jeremy’s smile was there again, a bit crooked and a bit sad, and a bit lost in thoughts Jean couldn’t read. It was a smile Jean had never seen on the captain’s face either, a mix of worry and empathy and something else that was soft and that made his heart skip a beat.

When Jean finally stepped out of Jeremy’s bedroom, he felt exhausted, as if he had spent too long out in the sun.

In less than one hour, Jean had witnessed the death of a star, a solar eruption, and the birth of a brand new star system.

* * *

Months passed, then years, and the Trojans learnt how to be functional around each other. They learnt from their mistakes and from the incidents that kept happening, yet scarcer and scarcer. There were still times when Jean snapped at other people, but slowly, at his own pace, he learnt how to be better, and how to trust.

Eventually, Jean tagged along with the others, not because he had to but because he wanted to. It started with him following Jeremy, because people revolved around the captain like planets around their star, and truly Jeremy was the light showing them the way, guiding them through the darkness.

Jeremy, so ever patient and kind and teasing, was the first one Jean let in. He was the one to teach him that trust wasn’t found in having to keep each other alive but in staying around when there were other places to go – or nowhere to go at all.

It was after a match that it happened for the very first time. The team was listening to their captain debriefing, alternately drinking his words and cheering. As soon as he was done, everybody left, save for Jean who chose to stay with Jeremy a little longer. Both of them sat down on a bench, the dark court in front of them, only illuminated by the green lights of the emergency exit.

“... and that’s how Alvarez got this scar on her jaw,” Jeremy laughed, pointing at his own cheek.

Jean lifted his brow in disbelief, not sure whether the story was true or not.

They went silent for another comfortable moment and neither of them made a move for the door. Instead, Jean reached out to the coat he had left on the bench before the match and dived into one of the pockets to retrieve his phone. Earphones where tangled around it and it took him some work to get the threads free. Jeremy watched him the whole time, the hint of an amused grin on his face.

When he was finally done, Jean plugged one of the earpods into his ear and closed his eyes as the music started.

“Can I?” the captain asked beside him.

He slid closer, aware that Jean had made all this scene on purpose, because it was actually how he was: a bit awkward when he wanted people to come closer. Jean needed people to read him in order for them to understand him fully.

Jean handed him the other end of the earpods without opening his eyes. It was a slow melody, wistful even, and Jeremy quickly realised he couldn’t understand the lyrics.

“You’re cheating, this one’s in French,” he laughed, tapping Jean’s ankle with the tip of his foot.

Had it been anyone else, he’d have bumped their shoulder, but he knew Jean wasn’t comfortable with such physical contacts most of the time. Yet, this time, the backline moved a bit closer, pressing his leg against the captain’s.

“You would have had plenty of time to learn it if you had accepted my help,” Jean said.

It brought another smile to Jeremy’s face, this one teasing. “Now you sound like Kevin.”

At this, Jean cracked a smile, his nose scrunching like it did every time a genuine expression passed on his face, and time froze around the two teammates. Jeremy took a sharp breath in, his gaze on the other’s face, unwavering. Just for one second, briefly enough that Jean could think he had imagined it if he wanted to, Jeremy gazed at him like _he_ was the sun in his life.

“What?” Jean frowned.

Jeremy nearly joked about it, but it was the very first time he had seen a smile on the other’s face. It felt important, it _was_ important, so he bit his taunt back and shook his head dismissively. Jean was healing, still. Pointing it out was pointless, it would only result in him retreating back into that shell of his again.

Instead, Jeremy grinned brighter, taking one step further, closer to Jean’s heart.

* * *

Jeremy was the first one Jean let in, soon followed by Laila and Alvarez, in spite of their numerous fights. They taught him trust and he taught them boundaries. Whether he was aware of it or not, and even though Jean had let several people into his life, it was Jeremy who sneaked in the closest in the end, making himself room in Jean’s heart where the backliner hadn’t even known there was any in the first place.

Yet, there were some nights Jean couldn’t outrun the dark shadows that lurked in his nightmares. It helped that he was alone whenever he jolted awake in his dark room. On his bedside table was a phosphorescent sphere shaped as a stylised sun that Jeremy had gifted him for his most recent birthday, on his second year with the Trojans. It was the only thing that brought him back to reality whenever the nightmares struck too hard.

Jeremy’s eyes snapped open and he held his breath, staring at the ceiling. Something was off; his super-captain sense was tingling. Without caring about his Lion King pajamas, he jumped to his feet and rushed into the corridor, his eyes scanning each door in hope to find a thread of light somewhere that would betray one of his teammates being awake. His heart was pounding, reacting to the alarm that rang loud in his head and that he couldn’t understand. His feet took him to Jean’s room, out of a mix of instinct and habit. Of course, that was where he found the light.

Jeremy hesitated in front of the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what was the right thing to do.

“Jean?” he called, his voice a whisper and yet too loud in the quiet night.

He knocked on the door, his fist feeling weak and numb.

On the other side, Jean swore loudly, yet no other sound followed. He didn’t move from his spot and it only increased the worry that had started devouring Jeremy from inside.

“Jean, I’m coming in,” he warned, slowly pushing the door, his heart racing as he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. Both the worst and best case scenarios had his heart hammering in his chest.

Jean’s room was like the others, a single room with a sink in a corner so that the players didn’t clog the four shared bathrooms in the morning when they were getting ready.

Glass scrapped the floor, stuck under the door, and Jeremy’s blood froze in his veins when his brain managed to process what his eyes saw.

A dark silhouette was standing in front of the wall on his right. His back to his captain and his hands clenched on the edge of the sink, Jean didn’t react when the captain stepped in, nor did he turn around when Jeremy inhaled sharply at the sight.

In front of the backliner, were the mirror used to be, all that remained was a dark square where a few shards of glass were still hanging loosely. The rest of them were scattered on the floor all around Jean, shining like deadly constellations in a night sky, reflecting parts of the horror movie worthy scene.

It took all of Jeremy’s will to push his muscles into action again. He couldn’t take his eyes off his teammate; he couldn’t leave Jean alone in such a moment.

Pieces of his own heart plummeted to the floor, meddling with the mirror shards.

“Don’t move, I’m coming back,” the captain said softly. His voice faltered when he spoke again, stopping in the doorframe on his way out and looking back to catch the other’s gaze in his reflection. “I’ll be right back, Jean.”

It sounded like a promise, but Jean was too far into his own head to catch it. When Jeremy came back two minutes later, the other hadn’t moved. His eyes were glazed and whenever Jeremy flicked him a quick glance, Jean was still staring at the now bare wall.

Jeremy swept the broken pieces of mirror away, careful not to step on anything. Once he had gotten everything out of the room, safely stored into a bin, he went back to Jean. Slowly, carefully, hesitant like he had rarely been, Jeremy approached his friend. He walked around him so that Jean could keep him in his line of sight, so that Jeremy wouldn’t surprise or scare him further.

Jean’s eyes fell on him when he spotted a movement, and guilt stung through Jean’s guts. He hated the sadness he could see on Jeremy’s face. It was another side effect of having grown closer to Jean. Sometimes, Jeremy’s smile vanished in favour of worry, concern, sadness, hurt… It was like an eclipse, and it made the world all cold and dark again.

Jeremy reached out to Jean, letting his hand hover one breath above Jean’s biceps.

“Come with me,” the captain whispered.  
Jean met his eyes, and followed him obediently, sitting down on his bed when Jeremy asked him to.

Both of them stayed silent during the whole time Jeremy tended to the other’s wounds, and Jean didn’t react at all when Jeremy had to pull small shards out of his flesh with a tweezer.

Jeremy swallowed, too aware of his breath he was trying to calm down. He kept his touch as light as he could on Jean, trying not to invade his space in such a moment of fragility. The hardest part was not to stare as the lines that already scarred Jean’s fingers under the blood and the bruises that were beginning to bloom. These scars, thick and irregular, deep and pale, were from Jean’s life before the Trojans. They looked like a knife had slipped from someone’s hand and butchered Jean’s, but Jeremy knew better than to think it was an accident. Nobody ever talked about them and Jean himself had never mentioned how he had received them.

A shiver ran down Jeremy’s spines as his mind drifted away, to a world where people could inflict pain to their teammates if they couldn’t keep up with the rhythm. Jean’s voice brought him back to reality before he could dive too far.

“Every time…” Jean started, his hoarse voice and his dry mouth making it all the harder to speak. “Every time I look at myself in a mirror… All I can see is this,” Jean said, his valid index pointing at his cheekbone where his tattoo stood out, its black ink turning into a fresh, bleeding wound for an instant in Jeremy’s troubled mind.

The outline was regular, an artist’s work, because Riko wouldn’t have allowed any member of his Perfect Court to look bad for the public. However, the surface of his skin wasn’t smooth, as if someone had first carved the figure into it before it was inked.

Without thinking, Jeremy extended his arm and brushed the tattoo with his fingertip, his touch a mere caress. Jean stood still, neither jumping at the contact nor backing away. Somewhen in the many months he had spent with the Trojans, he had grown used to Jeremy’s skin casually brushing his, always light as a dream, never pressing, never pressuring.

“How long have you had this for?” Jeremy asked, sadness flowing in his tone.

Jean brushed it off with a dismissive shrug, but he didn’t take Jeremy’s hand off his face. It was warm and comforting. “Riko marked me as soon as I got there.”

Jeremy was the one to twitch at his words.

The way he talked about it, as if he – as well as Kevin and the small striker from the Palmetto Foxes – were worth nothing more than livestock… A wave of hatred pulsed through Jeremy’s body, briefly flared in his eyes. It was rare for him to burn with rage, but it washed over him whenever something was too unfair for him to forgive. And hurting Jean stood at the very top of his list.

Jeremy took a few more seconds to regain a more reasonable composure and his gaze found Jean’s again, softening when Jean’s attention was back on him. The captain let his hand slide off the other’s face, falling on his shoulder and following his arm until he could rest his hand on Jean’s wrist. He squeezed lightly, nervously, when he spoke to Jean again.

“Maybe it’s time to let go,” his voice cut through the heavy room.

Even though it was soft, it stabbed Jean so fiercely that he had a back stroke. Suddenly, he pulled away and leant his back against the wall, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide.

“You’re safe, here…” Jeremy continued, but he didn’t try to reach out again. His brows drew closer in an expression that was both pained and reassuring. “And look, Kevin got rid of his tattoo years ago, and he’s never been better... Maybe it’s time for you to fully get rid of this stain… To be reborn anew.”

He shut his mouth when Jean started shaking and stared at him as another anxiety attack threatened to take over the backliner.

Immediately, Jeremy switched to another topic.

“Hey, Jean, what would you think of a small trip during our next day off?” he offered, a small smile curving his lips again as he climbed on the bed beside the other and settled at his side. “Just the two of us? We could go to the beach, or to an amusement park. Or we could just have fun in a karaoke bar, I know one that is absolutely awesome, and they serve some pretty nice flavoured vodka shots. Really, I think you’d like them.”

He bumped into Jean’s shoulder, leaning against him and offering him his warmth. As soon as he felt it, Jean leant back into him, clinging to reality and to everything Jeremy represented.

Jeremy rested his cheek on top of Jean’s head, his hand curling on the hem of Jean’s shirt.

“You’re gonna be alright, Jean. Really, you are.”

 _“You can trust me”_ , he wanted to add. “ _I won’t leave your side_.” But it was a bit too much for the stretched strings of Jean’s minds that were keeping him together, so instead Jeremy closed his eyes and let Jean calm down against his neck.

* * *

Jean woke up, a heavy weight across his chest and his arm numb from being crushed under his boyfriend. On top of him, Jeremy snored lightly, disheveled, a dribble of saliva at the corner of his lips. Jean had been seeing this face everyday for the past two years and half, and he still wasn’t used to how unreal everything felt.

Jean gazed at Jeremy a moment longer, his mind going back to the past night and all the previous ones, but he couldn’t find the shadow of a nightmare in them. It had been weeks since he had woken up his heart racing and his breath short. Jeremy had a remarkable ability to help Jean relax.

His free hand brushed the soft hair of Jeremy’s undercut that had already grown out too long, and even in his sleep, Jeremy’s lips curled into a grin.

The captain shifted and tightened his embrace, exhaling a satisfied sigh.

Footsteps rushed in the corridor and their door slammed open, Laila’s face appearing in the doorframe, stamped with the widest shit-eating grin.

“Rise and shine, captain!” she yelled, throwing a pillow on top of the two men before shutting the door close and running away, her laugh echoing on the walls even when she was already far gone.

Jeremy grunted and rolled to his side. Unintelligible words made their way past his lips and he laughed at his boyfriend’s confused expression.

With a yawn, Jeremy sat up and stretched out. He stopped mid-move to glance at Jean, meeting his gaze, and a smug grin replaced his lazy smile.

“Hello, sunshine,” he mocked, leaning in to kiss Jean on his cheekbone, where the tattoo’s black ink was fresh and smooth, the scar under it hidden and healed.

He allowed himself a few more seconds to admire it and the way it fit Jean so perfectly.

It had taken weeks for the backliner to actually bring himself to change the mark of his belonging to the Moriyamas into something that was his own, but Kevin had helped him out of it. Jean had covered the grim three with another chess piece, following Kevin’s example and making it his own. He had settled for a rook, plain black and thick, and if one looked closely enough, they could spot a small black spot near its top, that could easily be mistaken for a mole.

 _“Why the rook?”_ Jeremy had asked him when they were walking out of the tattoo shop, Jean half-leaning onto the other for balance.

 _“It matches Kevin’s, and the rook is straightforward and tough. And as Kevin pointed out… It’s also the name of another kind of corvid, a cousin of the raven,”_ Jean had added with a crooked smile that had turned into a grimace under the pain of the fresh tattoo.

He had listened to Jeremy, he had made his life his own.

His gaze had locked with Jeremy’s and for a second the world around them had stopped existing.

 _“And also,_ ” Jean had faltered, _“the rook… the tower one… it’s the one that rises closest to the sun.”_

Jeremy’s already tan skin had taken a darker shade, finally understanding the other’s insistence for the tiny spot over the rook on his cheekbone. The grin that had bloomed on his face after that could have outshone the stars – it was so bright it dissolved all the shadows in Jean’s heart.


End file.
